Greys
by J. Charelle
Summary: Kurt wakes to an unwelcome surprise in the mirror and Blaine comes to the rescue with a change of pace. Please see warnings in the story proper.


******So I wrote a thing for the mini-hiatus in the Beyond-Dapper Community. And it's smut. IDK, figured I should post it where people could see it. Reviews/PMs with constructive criticism are appreciated.**

******Warnings/Spoilers: AU, large age gap (24 years), mild D/s, orgasm control, marking…I really don't know what I'm warning for here…dirty talk, age shaming (is that a thing? Calling it a thing.)**

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The sun was what woke Blaine that particular Sunday morning. It was glaring through the blinds, warming the pieces of his body that peeked beyond the blanket. He stretched languidly, enjoying the stretch in his limbs and the light twinges from around his love-bitten hips. His hands swept up the mattress, finding Kurt's side empty and cooling; not surprising, since Kurt was always the early riser between the two of them. Sundays in particular were the day he picked for running errands; shopping for the apartment or hunting down that one particular fabric he needed for a costume, maybe dropping the bills in the mail (because _even if they don't get picked up until Monday, we don't have to worry about them during the week, Blaine_). So Blaine was planning on waking up, fixing a lunch for the both of them, and asking about Kurt's morning. Very typical Sunday fare; it had been that way since Kurt moved into the apartment three years ago, a bright-eyed kid of twenty , fresh out of college (after busting his ass and graduating early) and shacking up with the middling-famous songwriter. It was something the two of them had come to cherish, their little routine; Blaine because he could really spend time with Kurt and whoever they invited for dinner on Sundays, and he suspected Kurt enjoyed it as well, for all he joked about his 'old man' needing a steady schedule to be able to function.

He pondered lightly as he got out of bed. He wasn't _old_; forty-seven was a far cry from ancient. They were just so busy during the week, and he loved knowing that at some point Sunday they could just be together, talking and taking in each other's presence before the work week started up again. It was a nice centering time, was all.

Blaine was hunting through his dresser drawers looking for a pair of sweats when he heard a squawk, some swearing, and a clattering from the bathroom.

"Kurt?" he called, ignoring the twinges of pain in his hips to quickly cross to the bathroom. "Is everything okay?"

The man in question was standing over the sink with both hands braced against the mirror. His creams and bottles lay in disarray in the sink, where his towel had knocked them in his haste to lean in and stare intently at something on his head.

"No, things are not okay. I've been betrayed!" Kurt wailed, still looking worriedly at something on his face.

"I thought we talked about this on your birthday? It's not betrayal when you start showing laugh lines, Kurt. It's part of maturing."

"It's not laugh lines!" Kurt turned to look at Blaine for a microsecond before going back to glaring at himself.

"Then what is it?" Blaine moved in and turned Kurt to face him. He couldn't see anything different; his skin was just as clear as it should have been, for all the time Kurt spent on it. His eyes were the same breathtaking grey-blue-green Blaine had been dreaming about since he locked eyes with the then-barista at his favorite coffee shop all those years ago. The chestnut hair was immaculately styled—

No. There, just above his left temple; Blaine saw what had Kurt so distressed. A tiny scattering of grey hairs, giving off the faintest shimmer in the fluorescent light.

Blaine chuckled. "Your first grey hairs, congratulations." He reached up to stroke over the spot, but Kurt ducked away with a muttered "Knock it off."

"I don't really understand. You were fine when I got mine…" Blaine caught Kurt by the waist as he turned to set the things scattered around the counter to rights. Kurt muttered something as he straightened, flushing red and determinedly avoiding Blaine's gaze in the mirror.

"Sorry, I can't be the thoughtful, considerate fiancé if I can't hear what I'm supposed to be thinking about and considering."

Kurt waited until the last bottle was in place before sighing, "It was fine when you got yours because you're _old_. It's okay for you to look that way. Plus…"

Blaine arched an eyebrow, watching Kurt's expression fade from embarrassed to one of chagrin.

"Plus?" he prodded. When Kurt didn't answer he pinched lightly at his side, making him squirm.

"Plus I think it's hotter when you're greying." Kurt finished, flicking his eyes up to meet Blaine's in the reflection and blushing.

"Do you now?" Blaine held his gaze, let his fingertips slide slowly up Kurt's ribcage and around his middle until he was locked in Blaine's arms.

"Makes it easier to call me sir, doesn't it?" he demanded, dropping his voice and purring in Kurt's ear. "All that silver. Why do you like it, Kurt?"

"Because you know how to take care of your boy, Sir. You have to know a lot to get that many grey hairs." He answered, doing his best to keep his voice steady as Blaine began nibbling gently at his earlobe.

Blaine chuckled, taking small nips at Kurt's jawline and down his neck. He stopped for a second to inhale over his clavicle, running his nose over the jutting bone before pressing a kiss in the center of it.

"Maybe all those grey hairs mean you're ready to show Sir what you know," He rested his chin on Kurt's shoulder, "if grey hairs make you so smart. And I know you want it, greedy as you were last night."

Blaine could feel the gooseflesh raise under his hands as Kurt shivered. He gave a smirk and moved around to Kurt's back, making sure to slowly drag his stubble over the skin as he pressed wet kisses into it. Kurt's muscles began jumping beneath Blaine's mouth; he was caught between giggling hysterically and letting himself start moaning, just like every other time Blaine decided to pay special attention to the smooth muscles on his torso.

"I couldn't show you anything new, Sir." Kurt finally answered, bracing himself on the counter as Blaine reached up to start stroking around his nipples, taking them in hand and pulling, coaxing them to stiff peaks.

"Bet you could, if you really wanted to. It'd be nice, wouldn't it? You'd get one night to do whatever your slutty little heart desired without any kind of punishment…" Blaine sucked a hickey into Kurt's shoulder while he gave him time to think it over. "Are you really going to pass that up?"

Kurt snorted, his breath still a little shaky. "It sounds more like Sir wants to take a walk on the sub side."

Blaine bit a little harder over the purpling mark he'd left than was strictly necessary before answering. "I'm giving you permission to do bend me over the nearest surface and fuck me senseless and you're worried about who's actually in charge?"

Kurt's breathing hitched, considering. After a moment he turned in Blaine's arms and landed a kiss of his own on Blaine's lips, soft and tentative. When Blaine didn't pull away, Kurt grinned and placed a hand over his sweats, the warmth from his palm settling over his cock and coaxing it further into hardness.

"Good point." His grip tightened on Blaine as he gave him a smile that was absolutely predatory. Blaine twitched in his hand, already very interested in where the morning would lead. He hadn't given Kurt the chance to take control in a while; who knew what new things he'd have thought up since then.

"Come on, old man. I guess we can find a way to teach you some new tricks."

Those new tricks were nowhere near as exciting as Blaine had thought they should be. Of course, it was mostly a failure of communication on his part. He had meant to whip Kurt into a lusty fervor that burned hot; when he could get him agitated enough Kurt really knew how to put Blaine through his paces—they fucked hard, they fucked fast, and they fucked a _lot_ when Kurt was especially frisky—but apparently he had created a slow burn.

Which would explain why Kurt had blown him for twenty minutes before slapping a cock ring on him and dragging him into the kitchenette.

It would also justify the fact that Blaine's wrists were tied to the kitchen table; with enough slack so Kurt had access to all the places that mattered. Kurt had been taking full advantage of the change of position for the last hour; touching everywhere, licking, biting, and stroking in all the places he knew turned Blaine into a quivering pile of lust.

So the situation wasn't _boring_ so much as it was _frustrating_.

"God Kurt, come _on_."

Nails ran down Blaine's back with delicious pressure, tracing patterns from the previous night, over tendons to his ass, where they dug in to separate his cheeks.

"I'm working on it," his voice answered lightly as a finger began stroking along his crack, placing more teasing pressure around his hole. "But I don't _have_ to do anything you say today, isn't that right, Sir?"

Blaine groaned and dropped his head onto the table as the hands disappeared. "I don't know what I was thinking."

"I think," Kurt said over the click of the lube cap, "that you were just trying to get your boy feeling better." slick fingers returned to their ministrations, "And he really, _really_ appreciates it."

Another wet kiss was applied to his lower back before Kurt continued. "It's just that sometimes it's nice to know that I can make you do this—" he inserted a finger and Blaine groaned at the sudden breach, "—no matter how old we get."

They were both silent while Kurt pushed the first finger in to the second knuckle, Kurt because he was gauging Blaine's reaction; Blaine because he was wondering what exactly Kurt would do if he tried fucking himself on the finger inside him. Or possibly begging for a second, followed quickly by the third and then what he'd come to think of as the grand prize: the fucking Kurt was so obviously working toward.

Kurt took pity on his fiancé and prepped him quickly but thoroughly, adding the next finger as soon as the muscles clenching around them began to relax. About halfway through the second finger he found Blaine's prostate; every third stroke pressed against the bundle of nerves, making the man beneath him cry out.

Blaine was in a haze. His cock, long neglected, hung heavy between his legs, swaying each time Kurt rocked into him with a particularly hard thrust of his hand. He just needed the cock ring off; wanted nothing more in the world than to come. The friction in his ass was amazing, but he needed more…

"Hey, Kurt?" He panted. Kurt gave a particularly strong stroke against his prostate in response. "I know this is probably—_fuck_—fun for you, but some of us aren't as young as we used to be…"

Kurt chuckled. "I forgot. You just look so nice, spread out on the table and taking my fingers. I could watch you all day." He reached around to take Blaine in hand, stroking him quickly around the cock ring.

"But then I guess we should be careful. Don't want to mess up your knees or anything." And suddenly the fingers were gone, replaced by the head of Kurt's penis just barely entering his hole. "Why don't we double check that you can still use those?"

Blaine didn't understand. He was tied to the table with a rock hard dick hanging off of him and another sitting just this side of in him and he had no idea why neither of them were coming yet; he just wanted to come. What the hell did Kurt want from him?

A sharp slap crashed against his ass, making him gasp and jerk back onto Kurt, and in that moment, he understood. Flexing his arms, he slid himself down slowly until Kurt was balls-deep. It took a minute to figure out just how to move, but soon enough he was rocking as quickly as he could onto his cock, almost in tears because it was too slow; not enough and too much all at once.

"Is that all you've got?" Kurt demanded, placing his hands on Blaine's hips but not giving any help. "No wonder you wanted me to take over today; if you're gonna fuck like that you don't deserve to be in control…" The hands on Blaine's hips tightened, holding him still.

"Kurt I swear on whatever designer you look up to this month, if you don't stop talking and _fuck me_ I will go so long without touching your dick you'll forget you're not a virgin anymore."

Warm weight settled on Blaine's back; Kurt had aligned himself with Blaine, covering him from the tips of his fingers to the curve where he was still nestled inside Blaine.

"We can't have that, now can we?" Kurt took his turn to purr in Blaine's ear as he toyed with the scarves around his wrists. "I guess I'm going to have to take pity on you or something." He quickly pulled the knots loose and hauled the two of them upright before pulling out and slamming into Blaine hard enough to make him cry out.

"But I'm not going easy on you."

Blaine had barely found the breath to finish panting "I wasn't asking you to." Before Kurt was _there_ in every sense of the word, pulling him close and moving his hips at a punishing pace. They breathed together, the sounds of skin and Blaine's steadily increasing whines the only noise in the apartment. Kurt was breathing hard, leaned over to watch as he slid through Blaine's cheeks. As his hips stuttered he finally came around to Blaine again, rolling off the ring and pumping him hard, circling the head to cover him in pre-come and make the slide easier.

Blaine couldn't wait for any kind of command before he was coming hard, over Kurt's hand, his chest, and the floor. It was all he could do to stay standing while Kurt kept pounding into him, pushing through the rippling muscles of his ass before coming himself, pressed up close to Blaine and letting loose profanities of his own as he pulled out of Blaine and guided them to the floor.

"Feel better?" Blaine asked as their breathing settled. Kurt hummed in appreciation and pressed a sloppy kiss to the back of his head. "Grey hairs aren't that bad after all, are they?"

"I'm not sure," he replied. "Coming up with ideas was stressful. What if I wind up with more?"

Blaine snorted as he got to his feet and moved slowly back for the bedroom. "Then we'll just have to see what those greys mean you've learned."


End file.
